The Fight
by Chocolateveela
Summary: “I hate you,” she whispered, then vanished with a resounding crack.//Set years after Hogwarts. EWE? Rated M for language.
1. The Fight

**The Fight**

**By**

**Chocolateveela**

Draco Malfoy was an exceptional Occlumens. Most of it was natural, but a great deal was also learned skill. Occlumency only worked if one was able to suppress their emotions. He'd mastered that ages ago. It was with that same mastery that he was able to lounge, at perfect ease, while his girlfriend raged at him.

"Come on, then. Get it all out of your system," he goaded.

Hermione Granger, his girlfriend of six years glared at him. "You are such an arrogant, emotionless … bastard!"

Draco only smiled. He reclined atop his side of a large four-poster bed. He'd come home with the intention of lounging a bit before supper. He had gotten as far the door way before she'd started on him.

One hand propped behind his head, supporting it while the other held a book that he had yet to begin to read. He lowered his knee so that he could see the way she stalked, back and forth, at the foot of the bed. _So fucking dramatic_, he thought.

"Are you done now?" he asked.

That was the wrong thing to say. Her anger renewed and he thought she rather looked like a snake before the strike: all vibrating stillness.

With faked calmness, he watched the anger cloud over her beautiful features. Her deep brown eyes flashed and the nostrils of her haughty up-turned nose flared.

"No, you inglorious prick, I am not done." He was surprised by the steadiness in her voice. It was much too steady for the expression on her face. "I really can't believe this, Draco. I have been with you for so long, and we have been through so much together. Through all of the negativity and doubt, still I loved you. I thought you loved me…. Why won't you do this one thing? Will you at least tell me that?"

He raised an eyebrow, careful to keep his face clear of anything but indifference. "You say 'this one thing' much too flippantly …. As if it's such a small thing."

Hermione slapped the thick bed post. "Just — answer the goddamned question!"

She was swearing now. She _never _swore. He gave a long suffering sigh and sat up, swinging his bare feet to the floor. "Hermione, we've been over this before. You know why."

"Pretend I don't and enlighten me."

Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten. He hated when she persisted this way. He hadn't always, though… He finally opened his eyes and met her big brown ones. What he had once thought to be exuberance and passion for cause, turned out to be nothing more than stubbornness and the need to be right.

"I'm waiting," she said.

He could feel his mask of indifference slipping, even as he spoke. It was a record for her. He hadn't even been home two hours.

"Hermione, I just — I can't…. I don't believe in marriage. I'm sorry."

"Oh please, shovel that load to someone that believes it. This is important to me; I want to spend my life with you. Doesn't that mean anything to you? You once told me that all you cared about was my happiness. Don't you care anymore?" She blinked up at him.

_There should be awards for performances like this._

"Of course I do. But, this is important to me too. Don't _you_ care?" he asked.

"You know I do. I love you, Draco."

"I love you too," he said without hesitation.

"Does that mean you'll do it?"

The mask fell away and frustration flared in him suddenly. He knew his face was flushed with anger, but he couldn't bring himself to care. She was relentless. He could be too. It's what got them together in the first place.

"No, Hermione. I love you, but no. I'm sorry you won't understand when I say it but, I've got my reasons."

"I don't suppose you'd care to share?"

"We have gone over this already … loads of times."

"You won't even consider it?" she asked in a small voice. Once upon a time, that might have worked. Not now. Not with this.

He shook his head. "No."

"Then what are we doing? Why have we wasted six bloody years if it ends in nothing?"

"Who saying it's going to end?"

"You are. Don't you see? If we aren't going to really be together then surely it must end." She hesitated. "Maybe we should just end it now, before we waste any more of the other's time."

The words stunned him unlike any jinx could. "If you think this…" he motioned between them. "…Is a waste of time, then no matter what I say you won't understand. You're too stuck on your own fucking selfishness to care."

Her head drew back on her neck at his words. "Fine. _Fine_," said Hermione.

But he very well knew it wasn't fine. She quickly moved to the wardrobe, grabbing more than an arm full of dresses, robes and trousers. She was barely visible under the mountain of it all. She tossed it all on the bed, summoned a large piece of luggage and proceeded to cram it all inside.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Draco asked.

"You're so brilliant. What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" She continued to stuff more things inside.

"So you're leaving me, are you?"

She didn't answer.

"See," he was yelling now. "This is exactly how it starts. We aren't even married yet—fuck, aren't even _engaged_ and already you're leaving the second things don't go your way!"

She swung her head, hair flying. "Excuse me? 'Don't go my way'?" She laughed bitterly. "You just told me that you don't want to marry me — what am I supposed to do?"

"That doesn't mean I want you to just leave."

"Oh, so hang around for what? To be your mistress? Not bloody likely."

"Hermione, it's not like that."

"Then please tell me, how is it?"

He couldn't think of anything to say that she might not twist into something derogatory, so he kept quiet.

"That's what I thought," said Hermione. She finished the garments and started on the shoes, leaving all the ones he'd purchased for her, he noticed.

"Put them back," he commanded when words finally came back to him.

She ignored him. She went around him to the bureau and started loading her under things.

"I said, put — them — _back_!" Before he knew it, Draco had taken the three steps back to the bed and grabbed an armful of her clothes. He tossed them in a heap in the direction of the wardrobe.

"Hey!" she cried, but he was already on his second armful, throwing them on the floor as well.

He'd just about scooped the third and final pile when she pulled her wand, pointing it squarely at his chest.

"Drop it. Drop it right now or I swear I will body-bind you."

Grudgingly, he obeyed, and stepped back. He furiously ground his teeth. Every emotion, mainly anger, was evident on his face. He still didn't care. Hermione kept her wand trained on him as she one-handedly re-packed her things. She carefully tucked away stray sleeves and closed the luggage.

Finally, she dragged the suitcase far enough away to be well out of reach before she spoke to him.

"I'm leaving, unless …"

He kept silent. He gnashed his teeth until his jaws ached. He was sure that, to let go, meant to drop to his knees and beg her to stay. Draco Malfoy was above groveling.

She looked unsure for a moment. "If — if I leave … I'm not coming back."

He thought,_ please don't leave me._ But his mouth had another agenda. His mouth, ever eager to roll out the most biting remarks, said the opposite. "Fine. Go, if you must."

He saw the effect his words had on her. Her head rocked back as if he'd struck her. He wished he could pluck the offending words from her mind, because she would no doubt remember them, and stuff them tightly back into his throat. Her eyes brimmed, her lips trembled. Twin tears rolled down her cheeks and his heart cracked.

Hermione stared at Draco for the space of a heart beat. There was a sick feeling in his stomach and he greedily absorbed the memory of her face, her hair … her beautiful brown eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, then vanished with a resounding crack.

O

She'd been gone four weeks all together. It was these last two weeks that had not been good to Draco. The first two weeks, he'd oddly been relieved. He relished the peaceful alone time. As far back as he could remember she had always been around. Just there, always nagging and fussing about _something_.

He missed her now. Terribly. He'd come out of the shower this morning and stopped at the sight of the un-made bed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen an un-made bed. He remembered how he used to joke that she sometimes made the bed with him still in it.

It had even begun to affect him at work. At Malfoy Malfoy & Twist, he was sharp, innovative, and perfect. But in the last two weeks alone, he had missed two important client meetings and thoroughly botched a very important presentation. His father had not been pleased to say the least. That much was evident as Draco's assistant had delivered his morning mail and notified him that Lucius wished to speak with him first thing. He cursed out loud and thought about leaving but decided against it. Wouldn't benefit him considering he had no place to go that his father couldn't find him.

Draco reluctantly made his way down the corridor to the corner office. He didn't bother knocking. He swallowed and entered.

Lucius Malfoy sat behind a carved desk that had once belonged to his father and his father before that. He studied over a few parchments and sat in a plush, leather chair, making him look more like the regal master of an estate he was, than the businessman. Draco noticed the spacious room smelled thickly of the expensive Caruthers Bros. ink, and in the next moment, saw the reason why.

Troy Stanley, Stan, was his father's assistant. He perched on the end of a chair at a spindly-legged table in the corner, quill at the ready. Draco rolled his eyes. His father did everything the old fashioned way. No one gave hand written dictation anymore, everything was done by typewriter. He'd tried telling him as much, but the older man wouldn't hear of it, condemning Malfoy Malfoy & Twist to the dark ages.

Lucius didn't look up from the parchments on his desk when Draco came in.

"Leave us, Stan," he said in that arrogant brogue of his. Stan promptly vacated his seat, leaving the dictation incomplete on the table. He nodded to Draco on his way out.

"Draco," his father said, after the door clicked securely closed.

"Lucius."

Lucius gave him _the look_. The one Draco knew to mean that his father was not in the mood for banter. Good. Neither was he.

"Sorry, father," Draco amended. He hated that his father sometimes treated him like a child. It had gotten worse in recent years. _I'm twenty-nine for God's sake,_ he thought.

Lucius motioned to the seat across from him. "Sit."

Draco obeyed. The elder Malfoy leaned forward, the neat ponytail at the base of his neck giving the illusion of a very close cut. But Draco knew better. Unlike his, Lucius' hair was past his shoulders. His father rested his elbows on the desk and twined his fingers.

"Draco, is there anything you wish to tell me?"

Draco crossed one ankle over the other knee. So, this was the game. The one where Lucius knew everything and pretended to know nothing. The one where he asked questions to which he already knew the answers.

He looked his father in the eyes. "No, sir."

Lucius raised a brow. "Really?" His voice rose with every spoken word. "I'd like to think there was a reason that in just two week's time, you've succeeded in nearly running my company into the ground!"

Draco put on his face; the one that seemed to piss everyone off.

"Nope," he said and knew that he was being more than immature.

His father's stormy gray eyes flashed angrily. "Do not toy with me, Draco."

"Then what are you playing at, father? It's clear that you already know."

"Then it's… the _girl_?" he said, with a sneer worthy of Severus Snape.

"If by girl you mean Hermione, then yes."

"You love this… her?"

Draco eyed his father and answered slowly. "Yes, I do."

"I figured as much." He gave a disapproving smile, but held his tongue. He and Draco had been estranged for nearly two years when he couldn't keep his comments to himself in the beginning. "I'm hardly one to give relationship advice…"

"Isn't that the truth," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Lucius continued as though he hadn't heard. "But I will be damned if my company goes to the dogs because my son is _sad_."

Draco felt his ears grow warm. "I am not sad."

"Sad, lovesick … same difference I suppose. Now, what exactly is the problem? Why has she … left you?"

Draco was stricken. This wasn't the type of conversation the two of them shared. Quidditch, money, dark arts — all familiar topics. Love and matters of the heart? Not so much.

"Er — father, are you certain that you've … got the time? Haven't you got something more important to do?" he tried.

"Ah, normally yes, but since you've gone and destroyed all potential aspects last week, my meetings with them have been cancelled for this week. I've got nothing but time." Lucius smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it.

Draco sighed, recognizing a losing battle. He told him the gist of the fight, leaving out the part where he threw a tantrum.

This time, it was Lucius that couldn't hide his surprise. Draco felt marginally worse. Then suddenly, Lucius laughed, real and genuine.

"Oh my," he said between chuckles, "well, I can't say that I blame you."

Draco's fists tightened and Lucius realized his mistake.

"Calm yourself son, I meant nothing by it. Witches and wizards, and I suspect Muggles too, have been having this argument for decades."

"Forgive me father," he drawled, "if I fail to see the humor." He unclenched his fists. "I am glad that I could provide you with your daily laugh at my expense. Is that why you beat it out of me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I want to help."

Draco didn't believe it for a second. "I'm afraid I really do lack your sense of humor, father."

Lucius sobered quickly. "There's nothing funny about it. Helping you is helping me. Now, allow me to understand; this woman loves you and wants to marry you … provide you with heirs someday …."

Draco nodded. He also noticed how his father slightly cringed on the word 'heirs'.

"And you … for reasons I cannot understand … claim to love her as well …"

Again, Draco nodded.

"…But you refuse to marry her?"

Draco scoffed. "Well, yes … but it sounds terrible when you say it that way. I have my reasons."

"It sounds terrible? Why do you suppose that is?"

"First off, I don't claim anything. I do love her. It is a statement of fact. You make it seem as though I don't. It's just … the marriage thing. I don't see what the big deal is. We don't need some fat bloke on a bench to decide that our feelings are real."

Lucius seemed to consider his son's last statement. "I do see your side," he began slowly. Draco nodded at the approval. "However, if it is nothing more than something of irrelevance, then why not tolerate this 'fat bloke' if it matters to her? That is to say, if you love this woman as you say you do, why deny her the very thing she wants, which in this case happens to be you?"

Draco blinked several times in a row. "I—I, what? Father are you suggesting…? What _are_ you suggesting?" If he didn't know any better, he might think his father _wanted_ him to marry Hermione. You-know-who might rise from the grave and kiss a Muggle first.

"I am suggesting nothing, only trying to make sense of your reasoning. Draco, what are you afraid of?" Lucius asked. He stared Draco in the eyes, challenging.

"I'm not afraid of anything, father."

Lucius cocked his head slightly to one side. "Surely you do not except me to believe that. Do not forget that I was once an uncertain young man in love as well."

"Then what happened?" Draco asked.

"You are dodging the question at hand, son. What scares you? Is it the idea of being bound to one woman for the rest of your life?"

Draco almost smiled. "Now that you mention it, I should add that to the list, but no."

"Then what?"

Draco did not answer. Instead, he pressed his lips firmly together, trapping the words on his tongue. His reasons were his alone. Except that Lucius was quite the intuitive. He studied Draco for several moments before comprehension lit his eyes.

"I will remind you that you are not me, Draco and your young woman certainly isn't Narcissa…."

Draco suddenly stood. "I think this conversation is over. You lecture so well on something you can't even understand for yourself."

"It is for that reason that you will hear me, sit." But Draco remained standing, frowning down at the older man. "Sit down." Lucius repeated in that commanding tone and this time his son obeyed.

Draco spoke first, "I warn you father; you don't know anything about Hermione. Have a care with your words."

Lucius smiled. "We both know that I am not perfect, Draco. I admit that in my quest to make sure my family lived the best life, I've made some … questionable decisions."

"That's easily the understatement of the century."

"However, that is all in hindsight," Lucius continued. "At the time I did what I thought was best for my family and myself. And, not all of my mistakes were with the decision to serve the Dark Lord." He made a sweeping motion with his hand. "This company, rebuilding our place in the world took much sacrifice. And with all sacrifice comes a price. My price was your mother."

"Was it worth it?" Draco asked coolly.

Lucius did not answer right away.

Even as an adult the news of his parents' separation had been devastating. No amount of reasoning or begging had persuaded his mother to return to the manor. Five years had passed and his father had sunken into his work, sleeping in the office on most nights. He'd also taken to involving himself in Draco's personal life most uninvited.

"I don't see why I can't have my business and your mother too," Lucius admitted.

"Would you give all of this up to have her back?"

Lucius paused. "On some days, yes." Draco made a disgusted sound in his throat. "I can't change who I am, Draco. What is the point in saying love if I can't show her with my actions? Words are meaningless without the actions to back them. If I can't provide for her and protect her from harm then what kind of man am I?"

"Mother would love you regardless of your galleons."

"That may be true but I cannot love her without galleons to give."

Draco shook his head. Something like fear clenched in his gut. He understood his father's reasoning and he realized that it was precisely why he couldn't marry Hermione. To his chagrin, he and Lucius were alike in many ways. Draco loved to lavish his lady with trinkets and gifts. Although, Hermione had always protested whenever Draco bought her an extravagant gift, buying was how he loved her.

Hermione was successful. She worked in Magical Law Enforcement and Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (S.P.E.W.) had taken off nicely, so she could afford anything on her own. But Draco felt it was his duty and privilege as a man to provide for her. It made his love tangible.

He swallowed. What if he became so tangled in the providing aspect that he neglected other things? He knew the answer; she would grow to resent him and take off, leaving him alone and bitter, just as his mother had done to Lucius.

He stood abruptly. "Thank you for the unusual talk father, but I've got work to do." He was at the door preparing to leave when Lucius called out.

"Draco," he said. "You are not me. You're a sensible man and I am certain that you will make the decision that suits you and your lady."

Draco hesitated, and then walked out, closing the door behind him.

O

Malfoy Malfoy & Twist overlooked Muggle London in an abandoned warehouse. Like St. Mungo's and the Ministry of Magic, it was hidden in plain sight.

Normally, Draco welcomed distraction by watching the Muggles from his office window. He was both fascinated and repelled by the way they bustled about with shopping bags and kept all kinds of Muggle devices pressed to their ears. It made him glad to be a wizard. But that was normally. Today, he stared unseeing into the city, set aglow by the setting sun. His mind was addled with the contrasting thoughts about Hermione, and more specifically the conversation with his father.

If Lucius ever offered advice on anything other than money, Draco had found that it worked to his advantage to do the opposite. But Lucius had thrown a chink in the routine. He had nearly… given his blessing. What was he supposed to do now?

The more he tried to reason it out … to wrap his brain around it, the more confused he became. He loved Hermione, more deeply than he had ever thought to love another woman. When it really came down to it, Hermione was it for him. It he imagined himself twenty years in the future, it was Hermione's face beaming up at him. So why couldn't he just marry her?

Aside from the fear (which was something he would only admit to in a conversation with himself) of their marriage turning out like his parents, he didn't have any reasons.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. None of it mattered anyway. She had left and said she wasn't going to come back. His head hurt from thinking about it too much. What he needed was to go home and ingest some kind of potion that would knock him out until someone came looking. And just in case he couldn't sleep quite that long, he grabbed a folder of work for the weekend.

He Apparated to a large formal dining room in the townhouse he'd shared with Hermione. It was open with high ceilings and a large bay window. The table was light wood and set with white and gold china. He preferred this room well over the dark gloomy one of the manor he'd grown up in. He had never mentioned this to Hermione though, didn't want to seem soft.

He removed his jacket and had begun to loosen his tie when he heard a voice.

"Oi, Malfoy."

He spun on his heel. His wand had materialized in his hand through the process. It took a moment for his brain to make sense of what he was seeing: Harry Potter was there looking quite at home in the archway of Draco's dining room. Seeing the wand, he raised his hands, indicating surrender. Draco did not lower his wand.

"What the hell are you doing in my house, Potter?" Draco asked.

"I came to talk…."

"How did you get in here?"

"I Apparated — "

Draco tsked, and raised his wand higher. "Try again, Potter. My house is warded as to avoid any _uninvited_ intrusions."

Harry kept his eyes on the wand. Draco was sure the bespectacled wizard could probably draw his wand and disarm him before he could even get one hex off. He scowled and tightened his grip on the wand.

"No," Harry said, "I did Apparate. Er — Hermione modified the wards a few years back." It didn't help that he looked a bit sheepish about it.

Draco didn't want to believe it, but it sounded like something Hermione would do. Besides, he couldn't think of any other way he'd gotten in without setting off all the traps. Surprisingly, he was angrier with Hermione for going behind his back than with Harry for trespassing. The concept was disturbing … best not to dwell on it.

"All right." He grudgingly lowered his wand. It was just as well, if he hadn't used it by now, he wasn't going to. "What the hell do you want?"

"I think it's obvious why I'm here. I certainly didn't come because we're old mates."

Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe it isn't so obvious. It's Hermione."

The bottom dropped out of Draco's gut. His throat was so tight he could barely squeeze the words out. "Has something happened to her?"

"No, no. Nothing like that …."

Draco fought the urge to sag with relief, he got angry instead. "Potter, I haven't got all night to stand around playing twenty-fucking-questions with you. State your mind and get the fuck out."

Harry's face flushed and Draco could see the physical effort he was putting into staying calm.

"I don't know what the hell Hermione sees in someone like you, but I can't make her see reason. Not with you …." His jaw worked. "I'd have rather fed my right arm to a hippogriff than have come here … you don't deserve her. But I can't stand to see Hermione like this."

Draco swallowed his heart. "How touching, Potter. Make you point."

Harry made an unintentional little jerk. He took a deep breath. "My point is that her moping around for three weeks proves that she obviously still loves you. Maybe you should pull your head out of your arse, get your act together and go get her."

Draco's bottom lip protruded for just a second. His heart was beating something furious to his ears. He'd had all the heart-to-hearts he could stand for one day. He barely heard Harry over the banging in his chest.

"She's waiting for you, Malfoy," he added.

"Waiting for me, eh? To do what, run to her and beg her to take me back? _She _left _me_…."

Harry shook his head. "You're a damn fool, Malfoy," was Harry's parting message.

As Draco stood alone in the dining room staring at nothing, he silently agreed.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hello. Yes, it's been a while. This story has two parts, this is the first. The second coming shortly.

I am actually working on another story (which I'm having a ton of trouble finding betas for) and this concept would not leave my head so I wrote it down to save the idea and this is what happened. It's not beta'd. Thanks!


	2. The Fight: Resolution

**The Fight:**

_**part two**_**, Resolution**

**By**

**chocolateveela**

He had never considered that she might not wait forever.

Outside of a restaurant window, Draco watched Hermione dine with another man and the fact that she wasn't waiting was glaringly obvious. When he'd happened upon that window and seen her, it was as though the light had been sucked from the world, from his world.

The breeze whipped Draco's hair, and he brushed it from his eyes. Hermione stared at her companion so intently that she hadn't noticed the waiter approach the table. She really _had _moved on.

The crunch of shoes on pavement drew his attention. A couple cast him a wary look and walked wide around him. "Pardon me," he mumbled to them when he realized they'd witnessed him scowling murderously through the window.

He glanced around and moved further into the shadows, but still able to see her clearly.

Merlin, she was beautiful. How could he have forgotten how beautiful? She wore a soft lilac dress. It cut low enough to be sexy, but not enough to make him have to blind the other man … at least not anymore than he already desired.

She'd cut her hair, too. Draco had always loved her hair long and untamed. Besides the occasional trim, she had barely cut it in the six years they had been together. It was cut now, to just above the shoulders, shiny without a hint of curl. Funnily enough, he found that he rather liked it this way, too.

It had started to rain, small cold droplets pelting the window pane. And before long a light steady drizzle. But, Draco hardly noticed. The longer he stood there, the bigger the sinking feeling in his gut became. He'd had her and now…. _Now what?_ He knew Hermione better that almost anyone. She wasn't a shallow woman. Her feelings were not so fickle. Merlin, it had taken _him _months to convince her of just one dinner with him. There was no way that this Gilderoy Lockhart-looking bloke, with his un-naturally white teeth, had very much to hope for.

Still he couldn't ignore the feeling of loss that overwhelmed him, like a dreadful weight pressing down on his shoulders. Something cold and wet splashed his face and trickled down to the corner of his mouth. It helped pull him out of his spiraling despair. The street was nearly deserted now; no one with half a mind would be standing around in the rain. With one last look at Hermione, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.

Draco didn't sleep that night. He hadn't been able to get the image of Hermione laughing and talking with another man out of his head. He'd spent a great portion of the night pacing and thinking. By morning, he had a plan …

**O**

"Hermione, you can't just ignore it."

Hermione, Ginny and Harry sat around the Potter's breakfast table. Ginny had yet to touch her food, instead she clutched the discarded Owl post that Hermione had not even read before tossing it in the rubbish.

"I believe I just did," Hermione replied haughtily.

The ginger-haired witch heaved a great sigh and turned to Harry, who had remained silent through the quarrelling, staring at his plate. He looked as though he was concentrating on something far more interesting than mere eggs.

"Harry? Are you going to let her just ignore him?" Ginny asked. "What have got to say?"

Harry conveniently stuffed his mouth. Both women were looking at him; Hermione daring him to side with Ginny, and Ginny, daring him to side with Hermione. He chewed as slowly as possible, delaying the inevitable. When finally he swallowed, he answered her question.

"Gin, Hermione is an adult. If she doesn't want to talk to Malfoy, I support it. Pretty brilliant of her to start dating again, actually."

"Oh, who asked you anyway," she bit out.

"You know that wasn't a date," Hermione said at the same time.

Harry looked from Ginny to Hermione, and answered his wife. "You did."

She shot him a scathing look. Harry only shrugged. Turning back to Hermione, she picked up the letter again and slid it across the table to Hermione.

"I'm not saying you have to go back to him. Just see what he has to say Hermione. It's been almost two months and —"

"Exactly," Hermione interjected. "It's been two months and he's just now decided he might want to talk. I'll pass, thank you. I will not go running to him just because _he _says so."

"Well have _you_ tried to talk to _him_?" Ginny asked.

"That isn't the point."

Ginny pursed her lips and frowned at her friend. Her shoulders slumped a bit and she looked defeated. "Hermione, this is Malfoy. The Malfoy you nearly hexed Harry and Ron over. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hermione hesitated, but her words were certain. "Quite. As a matter of fact, I don't want to ever see him again." As she said the last words, she looked Ginny in the eyes. One stared at the other for several moments before Ginny finally looked away.

"Fine. It's your life …"

"Thank you," Hermione said.

"It's your life and if you want to be stubborn and proud and mess up something really meaningful just because you want to save face, go right ahead." She made a forward motion with her hand.

Harry's fork clattered to his plate.

"Ginny drop it, please. She doesn't want to talk to him." He stood and tried to kiss her face, but she pulled back at the last moment. His lips met nothing but air. "Ginny, don't be that way, look, I've got to work a little late this evening but I will be home for lunch. The two of you should … talk about something else."

Ginny rolled her eyes and stood up too, moving her long red hair behind her in the process.

"James has got an appointment with The Little Warlocks Academy or have you forgotten already?"

He looked embarrassed. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Are you sure I don't need to come?"

"Not to this one," she said in clipped tones. She was still angry at him.

He looked to Hermione, who apparently hadn't noticed. "Well, all right," he mumbled. "I've got to go. Love you, Gin. See you later, Hermione."

Within moments, Harry was through the front door and there was a sharp crack as he Disapparated.

Ginny looked at the note still lying on the table where she'd left it. "I know you're angry with him Hermione. Men say idiotic things from time to time … just look at Harry. Just read it, and think about what he says."

Hermione stood to face Ginny, her ponytail bobbing. Even though she was several inches shorter, she was just as tenacious as the other woman.

"You weren't there," she said. "He didn't say anything idiotic, he spoke the truth — what he felt. He doesn't want to marry me." She lifted one shoulder, and shook her head. "Reading that letter is only going to make things worse."

Ginny dropped her head to one side. "You've got no idea how that letter will or won't change things." As she moved to step around Hermione she touched her arm and gave it a squeeze.

Hermione sat back down and stared at the folded letter for what seemed like hours. Finally, she grabbed it and went to the rubbish bin, hesitated, and then tossed it in.

**O**

Draco was nervous.

For what had to be the tenth time he adjusted his robes and situated himself to look casual. He glanced around the dining room, double-checking his work. He'd transfigured the table, into a small table for two. The bay window, which opened to a small brook and garden in the back, had been expanded and the ceiling enchanted to mirror the sky outside. The sky looked as though millions of tiny diamonds had been dashed upon the night, the brilliance of the stars reflected in the stream below. It was a tough bit of magic, but he did it because Hermione loved to dine under the stars, but April nights were still too chilly for the real thing.

He hoped she liked it.

He glanced at the clock. Eight o'clock on the dot. He wouldn't worry yet. It was almost prudent for the lady to keep the gentleman waiting. Instead, he adjusted his clothes again.

He'd worn his best tonight, too. Black robes emblazoned with tiny, barely discernable, silver stars were worn over a simple dress shirt, trousers and a black tie. He'd worn his hair free of any styling products, so that when he moved his head he could feel it sweeping the neckline. Nervously, he fingered the box in the pocket of his robes.

The overall effect, Draco thought, was pretty impressive even if he had to say so himself. And he did, because Hermione still hadn't arrived. It was seventeen minutes past the hour. Even when Hermione ran late, she was earlier than this.

Then, something settled unpleasantly in his gut. She wasn't coming.

Draco looked at the clock and then to the spread on the table. She'd read his letter and decided not to show. She, the Potters and Weasley were probably all laughing at him this very instant. _You don't know that_, he thought.

Besides, Weasley was on holiday. Maybe the Owl had gotten lost. It could happen. The post had gotten lost before Hermione got a chance to read it. Draco swallowed thickly. That wasn't very likely, either. In his twenty-nine years, he had never known an Owl post to just get lost. Maybe Harry hid it from her. He shook his head, also not likely.

There was only one way to find out, though.

Draco was experiencing the unpleasant sensations of Apparition, like being pulled through a tube, before he could change his mind. And suddenly, he was standing at the back of Harry Potter's house.

Through the window he could see the Ginny. She was singing along to something on the Wireless while dishes flew about her head, zooming into their places in the cupboards. This was a bad idea. If Hermione had wanted to see him, she would have met him as he indicated in the letter. He'd been stood up and she hadn't thought twice about it.

For the first time in six weeks, Draco was angry. He was angry with Hermione because she was the one that wanted this. _She _had done this to them. And he was angry with himself, because he loved her. He didn't _regret _that he loved her. Just angry that he loved her so much, he'd given her the power to make him feel this way. Hurt, angry, bitter, and lonely.

Draco spun around and just as he thought of a destination, he heard it.

"Malfoy … is that you?"

He froze and turned slowly, as if doing it slower would somehow lessen the blow. It didn't. It was Ginny. She stood beneath the pool of light on the porch and pointed her wand in his direction.

Draco realized that he was cast in shadow. He stepped forward, revealing himself. Ginny sighed and lowered her wand.

"I recognized the hair," she said.

"Coming here was a mistake," he blurted. "I was just leaving."

She looked him over and a pleased expression came over her face. "Why so dapper?"

"I …" But he had no answer that wouldn't make him sound like a git. Movement from inside caught it his eye, it was Harry coming into the kitchen.

"You'd better get back inside, Potter's looking for you."

She ignored him. "Did you come here to see Hermione?"

He could deny that he'd come to see Hermione because, why else would he have come there? "It was a mistake," he repeated.

He turned to leave, but Ginny's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"I'm rooting for you."

He spun around and tried to see her face in the closing darkness. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

She stepped down and quickly closed the gap between them. Draco wasn't friends with this particular Potter either. The lot of them made him uneasy. It took effort not to step back when she approached him.

"I'm rooting for you, Malfoy. I want you to have Hermione. She's good for you … you're good for each other. And I haven't seen two people more in love than the two of you in a long time." She paused, and even though he couldn't see them, he knew her eyes were boring holes through his. "I hope you came here to ask her to marry you, otherwise you may as well turn around now."

"I _was_ leaving, remember."

"Yes, but why did you come here in the first place?"

Even though he knew she couldn't see him in the dark, Draco was careful to keep his face blank. Inside though, was total chaos. His heart thudded with the knowledge that Hermione was _here_, less than twenty feet away. And more disturbing, this sodding Potter woman had just _rooted _for him. As if he were off to a Quidditch match or something.

The door opened and Draco used the distraction to dart into the shadows, grateful that his color of choice was black. He blended nicely with the night.

"Gin, who are you talking to out here? I thought I heard a bloke's voice."

Harry also held his wand at the ready. Draco rolled his eyes.

_Did he ever _not _hold his wand at the ready?_

Ginny glanced back at Draco and hauled him out of the shadows. He nearly cried out in surprise. Affronted, he snatched his arm from her grasp.

"I'll thank you not to touch me ever again," he said, dusting himself off as he spoke.

Harry said, "And I'll thank you not to use that tone with my wife."

"Harry," Ginny interrupted, "it's fine we're just having a talk … go back inside."

Draco swiveled his neck in the direction of her voice. It had gone full dark since his arrival and he could only make out her shape in the darkness.

"No, we are not having a talk. I'm leaving." Having Harry show had finalized it. He was nervous as it was. Having these two as an audience was even worse. "Don't—don't mention this to Hermione."

"You can't leave, Malfoy," Ginny said. "Please just talk to her."

"For God's sake Gin, let the man go. We don't want him here and Hermione doesn't _need_ him here. Let him _go_."

"Be glad to actually, if you could just get your wife off of me."

"Say another word about Ginny and I'll curse that smirk from your pointy face, Malfoy."

"What's got your wand in a knot, Potter," Draco snapped. "Just two weeks ago you were —"

But Draco words were cut off.

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled. "HERMIONE! Get out here quick!"

"No!" Draco cried.

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry said at the same time. "Shut up!"

"You're not leaving here before you talk to Hermione," she said to Draco. "Hermione!"

"Like hell," he said. But before Draco could even turn to prepare for Apparition, Hermione burst from the house. Draco knew right away that she was preparing for bed. She was barefoot, clad only in a pair of maroon shorts and a white 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' t-shirt. Her newly cut hair was damp and fell in heavy waves just past her shoulders. She too, had her wand at the ready.

"What Gin, what?" she screamed, looking half-scared, half-bemused.

_Fucking gorgeous_ was the only way Draco knew to describe her.

"There's someone here to see you," Ginny sung. Draco scowled at the hint of glee in her voice.

Hermione peered into the shadows. Wishing that he'd thought to cast a strong enough dis-illusionment charm, he resigned himself to let the darkness swallow him instead. But Draco knew the moment Hermione saw him. She dropped her wand-arm and a shadow of the expression he'd last seen in her eyes when she'd stood in front of him, crossed her face.

Draco's face burned with both anger and embarrassment. Embarrassment, because he feared the sheer desire and yearning he felt so strongly was plain on his face. He was angry because this was the very scene he'd wished to avoid and Ginny was eating it all up.

"Harry, come inside and help me with James," Ginny said. She cast Draco a surreptitious grin and moved forward to grab Harry when he looked ready to protest. The door slammed, leaving Hermione and Draco alone together since the fight.

He thought Hermione might turn right around and follow the Potters inside but she only shifted to fold her arms beneath her breasts. Draco swallowed. Suddenly, all that he'd rehearsed vanished from his mind. He felt like a first year standing before Professor Snape without his homework.

"I — I like your hair," he said and immediately cringed. Why in the name of Slytherin had he said _that_?

He found it hard to look directly into her face, like staring into a brilliant light. He stared somewhere to her left instead.

"Did you come here just to stand around in the cold and talk about my hair?" she asked him.

A pang of annoyance rose in him, but he beat it back. She was shivering, and he felt slightly guilty that he was the reason she was outside in the first place. But now that he was here … could he go through with it? When he told her the truth, would she laugh at him? Would it be too late?

His self-preservation kicked in and screamed for him to run as far and fast as he could. But, as Draco had come to realize, some things were more important than self.

"No … I came because … you stood me up," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I sent you a letter. I asked you to come over for dinner and to talk … when you didn't show I thought — I thought I might come and find out why." He watched her as some emotion passed over her face. He held quite still. "Didn't you get my letter?"

She seemed to be undergoing some sort of internal struggle before she finally gave a terse nod of her head. "The letter arrived but I … haven't actually read it."

"Oh."

He walked up the stairs, near enough to touch her. He spotted a two-seater and motioned for her to follow. The pair of them sat, pressed together and she shivered again.

"_Thermos_, _Muffliato_," Draco said, "should keep us warm at least." He met her eyes for the first time and felt warmth that had nothing to do with magic from a wand.

"I …"

"I—"

"No, you should talk," Hermione said.

Draco agreed. "I'm sorry? No, I _am_ sorry. For so many things," he licked his lips. "I … I shouldn't have been such an ass. I said some really hurtful things that I didn't mean and I'm sorry." His heart hammered in his chest. There was something about being this close to her after so long …

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

He dipped his head, half-amused. "Just, 'okay'?"

"What would you have me say, Draco? I accept, okay. You didn't mean to hurt my feelings."

Now was not the time to start another meaningless row. Best to keep going.

"Thank you." He suddenly found it hard to say what he needed to next, but it was the image of Hermione laughing with another man that propelled the words from his mouth.

"I saw you out the other night …"

"Sorry?"

"With that bloke … with the hair and teeth and … something snapped. I …" But Draco never finished his sentence. A tiny giggle escaped her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Er — have I missed something?"

"I'm sorry." Giggle. "It's just that — you _actually_ think I was on a date with him?"

Draco was confused. "Weren't you? I saw you …"

Hermione shook her head, the hint of a laugh still in her voice. "No, you saw me and that gentleman at a restaurant, but you did not witness a date."

"Then what was it? He looked pretty familiar with you." Draco was too lost in an unpleasant memory to notice the glare he received.

"The 'bloke with the hair and teeth', as you so eloquently put it, is the new solicitor for S.P.E.W."

Draco felt quite thick. He'd nearly pulled his hair out under the impression that Hermione had forgotten him — them. Harry's words played in his mind: _she's waiting for you_. So, she hadn't moved on. Did this change anything?

No. Because, whether she was dating anyone else or not, she wasn't with him. That made all the difference. "Oh," he said quietly.

Hermione suddenly looked nervous. "You were saying?"

Draco took a shaky breath, unable to look her in the eye anymore. "Hermione, I'm scared, terrified really."

When he didn't continue, Hermione reached over and placed her hand in his. She stroked his palm with her finger. "It's okay, Draco."

"I'm scared that we're going to end up just like my parents. That someday, I'm going to do something so idiotic, you'll leave me and never come back." He imagined it and the image was so painful that it brought a hot prickling sensation to his eyes.

"Draco, look at me," said Hermione. "Look at me."

He did. Even through a shimmery, tearful haze, she was beautiful. He didn't dare blink, because if one tear dropped he might not stop.

"You are not your father. You need to understand that. No, you aren't perfect, neither one of us are. Relationships take work. Love takes sacrifice. You can't use your fears as a crutch, or else you'll be paralyzed by it forever."

Hermione's words were ice water. She was right. He fingered the box in his pocket, and finally pulled it out.

"Okay," he said. "Okay." He stood up.

"Where are you going?"

Taking one last breath, Draco went down to one knee. Hermione saw the box in his hand and gasped, and flushed a bright shade of red.

"Oh, God, Draco. I never—I," she sputtered.

"Shh," he said. "I need to say this."

She stopped talking but her energy was hardly quiet.

"Hermione, I love you … so much. And these weeks without you have been, the most depressing and eye opening weeks of my life. I'd be quite honored if you would — if you would, be my wife."

There was a pause and Draco thought he might collapse. His heart threatened to bang out of his chest. His stomach was doing some acrobatic moves of its own. Hermione's big brown eyes brimmed with tears and he was suddenly reminded of the last time he'd seen her this way.

The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. _God, please_, he silently pleaded.

Suddenly she broke into a grin and nodded a split second before she answered. "Yes," she barely whispered, then, "Yes, yes!"

Draco slid the ring over her finger, she beamed.

"Oh, Draco, it's beautiful!" She spread her fingers out, and pulled the ring to her face. "Moonstones! Diamonds! Draco," she scolded, "It's Goblin made … this might have cost you a fortune."

"It was worth it," he said quietly. She looked at him for the space of a heartbeat, and then flung her arms around his neck. She kissed him soundly on the mouth, and pulled away before it tuned into something they might need more privacy for.

She rested her forehead to his. "I love you so much, Draco Malfoy."

"Likewise, future-Mrs. Draco Malfoy."

A great clattering startled them apart. Ginny had come flying from the house with Harry trailing behind her.

"Hermione! Let me see, let me see!"

"Gin, give them time," Harry said.

Ginny either didn't hear, or she ignored him. Draco was willing to bet she ignored. He stood aside, grinning as Hermione stared wistfully over Ginny's shoulder at him.

"Well you've gone and done it," Harry said to him. "Took you long enough."

"Yeah, too long," he said, still looking at Hermione.

But nothing, not even Harry Potter, could ruin Draco's mood. Everything was as it should be. He had his lady, and really, that's all that mattered.

**_The End._**

* * *

Thanks for reading everyone!

Thanks to everyone that reviewed...your comments are both encouraging and helpful.

chocolateveela


End file.
